


Until The Ribbon Breaks

by tepidJudgement (orphan_account)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: 10th Class, F/M, HA JOKES ON YOU this is actually my medic oc but heavily based off canon medic, Slow Burn, idk i'll add tags when i get to it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 18:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tepidJudgement
Summary: Amelia Swansea, a former nurse from England who was locked up for medical indecency. A woman who's life would be spent rotting in hell is offered a second chance, albeit one much more suited for her skill set. After being broken out by the ever surprising Miss Pauling, the woman sets out to start her new life under the code name The Anesthetist. Though everything seemed better than the institute, things became complicated rather quickly.





	1. Work space

"Miss Pauling I don't zhink you understand-"

"I don't think  _you_ understand Medic."

The woman's voice was sharp as she cut the man off before her. Despite her short height and frail frame, the male was wise not to impose on her. Miss Pauling was a woman filled with surprises, as Amelia noted when she shot her doctor in cold blood to break her out of the Criminal Asylum.

The Medic however, let out a long sigh as he glanced back to the woman who seemed to be moving into his work space. The med-bay wasn't tiny, sure. But to accommodate for _another_  medical professional? Blasphemy! Why did they need another Medic anyways? He worked just fine by himself.

"And why is  _she_ here anyvays, Miss Pauling?"

The woman tapped her clipboard, trying to pick her words carefully.

"Well you see. We, the Administrator and I, we've received some... Complaints, about the experiments you have been conducting here." She looked at him with an accusing glare.

"Ah, yes. Zhe 'experiments'. Mmm, might I ask vhat zhey've been saying exactly?"

"Well. They complained about the lack of sedatives and anesthetics used during surgeries as well as the lack of Novocaine and other numbing agents that should be used."

The Medic scoffed.

"Zhey should be fine! Zhey're hired killers! Zhey don't need anesthetics like, say, a civilian going in for a proper surgery. I still don't see vhy-"

"She has her own medical budget, all of which is dedicated to the exact topic of narcotics and anesthetics. Which means they will no longer be taken from your budget."

It took a few seconds for the Medic to register what they meant, though a wide grin seemed to replace his originally annoyed features quickly.

"I'll see that she won't be a problem for you then?"

"Perhaps not as much. But I still don't understand vhy she has to invade my personal work space."

"We'll be extending the med-bay to accommodate for her, but for now you'll just have to deal with another person in the infirmary. Have a good day Medic."

And with that Miss Pauling was gone and he was left with the elephant in the room. She was located on the farthest side away from his set up. Taking out some cabinets, a spare gurney and her own set of tools. She had very little belongings he noted when she didn't even seem to bring in anything of her own to decorate the area. Cold and sterile, at least he wouldn't have the problem of dealing with left over sticky tack and nails when she transfers to this supposed new addition of the Med-bay.

* * *

 

He recalled the announcement earlier that morning. It started with a crate left at their doorsteps of Teufort. Damned Scout tried to look through it before Miss Pauling slapped his hand away from it. She told them that it was for the 'New experimental class the Administrator hired.' Which meant they were getting a new addition to the team. Heavy helped with transporting the items to the empty dorm room in the living quarters as well as set up the supposed space for the new class. Out of curiosity however, it was Engineer that inquired what the new class was.

"From the briefing, the new class is another support. Another medical professional who isn't... Quite like our medic. It provides cover and is most utilized with either juggernaut or blitzer-type classes. Such as Scout or Heavy. It's most noticeable traits is it's overall ability to incapacitate enemies but not exactly kill them. Though in close range it could, in theory, deal devastating damage with their melee. They will be arriving soon, once I... Let them know they're coming."

"Y' mean y' haven't told 'im yet?" Sniper inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Well... Technically yes, but they don't have a choice to say no. I'll be off then." And she was gone like a flash.

* * *

 

When Miss Pauling returned, the team was in the rec room doing god knows what. However knocking the door frame, everyone fell silent as they turned heads onto two women. A short one in purple and another in a red, sleeveless turtleneck dress. She wore dark tights and black boots with orange hair pulled back in a bun. With green eyes framed by square glasses. Her lips were tight, her eyes unamused as she looked over the men who were either drinking, playing cards, or minding their own business. Degenerates. She may have been imprisoned in an institute for poor medical practices but that doesn't mean she doesn't hold herself to at least some standard.

Her cold eyes remained unwavered as she glanced to Miss Pauling, as if asking if this was a joke.

Finally the silence was broken by none other than scout.

"Hey uh- Miss P, who's the chick?" Scout cocks his head to the side and points to her with his thumb. Isn't he a bit young to be a mercenary?

"I'm glad you asked Scout, this is your new addition, The Anesthetist."

Scout nearly choked on his own spit. "Woah woah woah hold on- you're telling me this tight ass is going to work with us?"

How distasteful.

"Yeah, th' boys roight, we were expectin' someone who was... You know."

The women raised a brow.

"... _Male._ "

Miss Pauling rolled her eyes. "Well sorry Sniper but the best suited match for the job happened to be a woman. Get along now. I have a tight schedule to work on." And the woman was as gone as quickly as she appeared, leaving Amelia standing her own ground. Another length of silence.

"..."

"Good evening gentlemen, I suppose with Miss Pauling's introduction you've gathered enough to know I'll be assisting as the new tenth class. You will refer to me as The Anesthetist as per Mann Co. policy."

The men blinked at her. She's only been here for five minutes and already thinks she better than all of them. Or perhaps she's just ungodly professional? This didn't bode well with them at all.

"AND WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" The Soldier shouted, standing upright and nearly knocking over the table which held many bottles of liquor. Much to Demo's distress.

Amelia merely fixed her gloved hand before resuming eye contact- or lack there of. "As I said before, I am The Anesthetist. Pardon my brashness I suppose you can say it's been a while since I've brushed up on my, how do you say, people skills."

"British." Was all Spy had to say on the matter. Despite the odd set of circumstances, now with a woman thrown into the mix as well as another, hopefully not deranged practitioner of medicine, Spy now has a new victim to pry into, his curiosity never leaving him in the slightest. However in this case, he decided to leave the room and roughly brushed past the woman. But not before saying his greeting in French.

" _Ne pas dépasser votre bienvenue_ " 

The women side a glare at the Frenchman before assessing the group in front of her.

"As you all have heard, I am indeed a medical professional. Though I am in no way a doctor, I suppose you could say my previous profession was a nurse until an... Accident occurred. How unfortunate. I was briefed that I would be assisting the Medic in surgeries now with local anesthetic administration now."

"You're vhat."

"Oh? Has Miss Pauling not told you? Aside from my benefit to the battlefield I was also chosen to benefit the med-bay as well, specifically to pick up slack where you fail. After all, you wouldn't be considered a proper medical professional now, would you?"

The Medic clenched his jaw tightly.

"Are you?" He asked coolly, recalling that just moments earlier that she just said she had an unfortunate accident while nursing.

"Ha ha touche, but I can probably judge right now that between the two of us." She grinned. "I'm much more qualified then you'd ever be." And with that, she exited out the door without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translator's note: Do not exceed your welcome


	2. Living space

The next following days were intense, well with the sudden introduction of a tenth class. Everyone was equally displeased with her seemingly, as eloquently as Scout put it, bitchy behavior. However Medic seemed to have the shit end of the stick because he was expected to work closely with her. Something he frankly did not want. He worked better alone, he was fine. He didn't need 'assistance'. The only assistance needed was doctor assisted homicide, his favorite kind. And with that smart comment she pulled on her a few days before, he was no where near willing to let her near his work space.

However it irked him more how accustomed she's gotten with his birds. Even Archimedes took the time to perch on her shoulder despite the threatening aura he gave to her.

"Traitor." He mumbled as he cleaned his tools. Amelia however seemed to have the most acute sense of hearing, because he could hear the shuffled of her head turning slightly to looked at him.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nozhing."

There was silence, and then the shuffle of her going back to her work. Last he checked she was doing inventory of the medicine crate she was delivered a day after she arrived. Full of morphine, novocaine, xylocaine, benzodiazepine, muscle relaxants, sedatives, and other medicines that could induce involuntary sleep or other unwanted numbing sensations. Bottles upon bottles of clear liquid with printed labels littered her desk neatly in rows and columns. It'd be a shame if someone were to mess up how neat her station seemed to be...

Though he didn't seem to get the chance to bother her as she's up and settle the bottles in cabinets for ready access.

"Medic, be a dear and avoid touching my cabinets. The medicines in here can be fatal is misused and, hearing from your record, you most definitely would misuse them." The smile in her voice absolutely  _infuriated_ him.

And what's she calling  _her_ cabinets? This was his infirmary! Everything belonged to HIM! She's just a trespasser he has no choice but to accommodate for.

With a crisp click of the lock, the Anesthetist was back at her seat and looking through medical files. She then laid her eyes upon two identical ones, her medical files. With a brief cough, she brought the attention of Medic to her once more. When he refused to move from her spot, she sighed begrudgingly and stood up, waltzing over to him manila folder in hand. Handing it over, he eyed it questionably before looking back up to her.

"It's my medical file. As hesitant as I am to hand over such personal information to someone who has no right to be handling such files, it is required of me. But I suppose it'd be even since I took hold your file among my slew of papers." However threw her small monologue, the Medic snatched the filed through gritted teeth.

Turning swiftly, the woman left to go sit at her desk and further record interesting data she finds within the mercenaries files. Glancing over to her and noting the slight upward curl of her lips as her eyes flick between her notepad and his own file, or what he presumed to be his file. He immediately flicked open the file and scanned it over, spectacles running over small details. English, thirty six years old. She didn't seem to have any physical complications or surgeries or anything exciting of note. However her mental history, or her mental health. That was a gold mind in of itself. Signs of psychosis, childhood trauma, anxiety, paranoia, PTSD. Many of her episodes seemed to be triggered by whip cracks or images of her old boarding school in Oxford. How interesting indeed. It's a wonder how she can carry herself so well when her mental being is probably at the verge of breaking at the seams.

"So it seems here," He began, the ambient sound of pen on paper ceasing for just a moment.

"Zhat you have many mental complications, Fräulein." The sound of gritted teeth was music to his ears.

"And what does that entail, Mr. Schmidt?" The venom laced in her voice was satisfying, but the use of his surname made that venom  _sting_.

"Vell, it says here you have shown signs of Psychosis. As vell as anxiety, paranoia, and PTSD as triggered by a childhood trauma of your's, Ms. Swansea." There was an equal edge to his voice that made an annoyed smirk pull at her lips.

"How wonderful, you can read. Whatever the doctors have written about me in there is a load of bollocks and I can assure you most of it is not true." There was rage in her voice. How sweet.

"The doctor's never wrong Fräulein." Was all he said in response before their conversation returned to silence once more.

* * *

 

They can't recall how long they've sat in that threatening aura in the med-bay, but the moment they heard the southern drawl of the word 'dinner' they stood up quickly and rushed out of the door, however both stopped when they reached it.

"Lady first." She smiled, however that smile was anything but genuine. Almost threatening, mocking, as she brushed him out of the way and waltzed down the hallway. Firm steps and echoes and creaked down the decaying wood. She was strong, he'll give her that. Witty too.

At dinner, everyone sat in uncomfortable silence. They've quickly grown used to her presence but she wasn't exactly the most welcoming of people. She keeps to herself mostly. It wasn't like Sniper and Medic didn't either, they too were private people but they've always seemed to get along with the team. She however, she made no effort to get along. Just... Work.

"...Sooo..." Scout began, leaning forward onto his elbows and glancing down the table to the Anesthetist, who merely stared at her plate and ate. "You mentioned you were a nurse, right? How'd that go?" The woman paused, slowly setting her fork down and looking at the scout, eyes that burned holes through his skull. An awkward glance and gulp and he was sitting back up and looking away.

"A-Actually you know what nevermi-"

"I was twenty-two when I became a nurse."

Everyone paused for a moment.

"Twenty-two? That seems a bit young sheila-"

"I went to nursing school for four years, I was eighteen when I started. The moment I got my diploma I happened to land a nursing job at the hospital near the school I went too."

A long pause.

Then a breath.

"Needless to say, I was able to restrain myself the first week or two when it came to being surrounded by needles and endless amounts of novocaine. Apparently it's frowned upon to see how much novocaine you can inject into a pumping heart until it stops." And with that she continued eating as if nothing was wrong. However everyone else in the room seemed uneasy.

With a drop of her fork and a pat against her lips with a dinner towel, she excused herself from the table and exited the room back to her dormitory.

Everyone's eyes trailed their way to the Medic who glanced up to raise and eyebrow.

"Vhat?"

"She's just like you doc." Sniper commented, before excusing himself from the table.


	3. The crate from home

Another day another afternoon he had to deal with that mega bitch. She seemed to have made herself very comfortable in  _his_ laboratory. What he thought was prudeness turned out to be a mere delay in her personals showing up.

The team managed to glance in the box. The one before hand was mere guns and other Mann co. related items. This one seemed a lot more personal. Clothes, dresses, coats. And a mysterious box at the bottom. However before they had time to get to the  _goods_ they heard a harsh clear-of-the-throat behind them. Glancing up from the crate was the owner. Demo, Soldier and Scout were the ones rummaging, while Engie, Pyro, Sniper and Medic were off doing something else and Spy looking along with a disappointed look that seemed to constantly grace his features.

"What, might I pray tell, do you think you're doing."

"Uhhhhh......." Scout glanced between her and the box before smiling sheepishly.

"We're.... Making sure BLU didn't try to booby trap your crate! Yep! No bombs here!"

"NEGATORY. NO BOMBS SIGHTED IN THE PERSONAL CRATE. ONLY PANTIES AND BRAS."

Demo slapped his forehead so hard she could of sworn he heard his brain jostle.

With a definite glare, the woman hoisted the crate in her arms and started heading back to her room.

"H-Hey, can I ask what that box at the bottom is?"

Amelia paused for a moment, silent.

"My pet snake and tarantula."

She continued walking.

"Ohhh... WAIT WHAT?"

A small grin upturned on her lips.

* * *

 

She admired the vivid colors of the two animals. One cold and blue, the other vibrant with magentas, oranges and yellows. Truth be told an African Bush Viper should  ** _not_** be kept as pets but when has Amelia done anything legal. The tarantula however was the most legal thing she had on her person. She admired the two animals for one reason and one reason only. Their venom. She harvests it really. Coaxing the animals to attack an empty vile and fill it with it's deadly paralyzing venom. She's been collecting it for some time. And now she has a use for it.

Looking through the crate, it has revealed most of her wardrobe from home. She never had many clothes and the ones she had were quite elegant, befitting of a woman of her caliber. There were also books, a music box, her viola, case and everything, and a packaged tea set she can decorate her dorm with. Overall she managed to find space from the little nick nacks she requested for. However at the bottom she noticed that not only was one tea seat brought, but another, albeit smaller. She decided to take that to the infirmary and decorate her desk.

* * *

 

A tea seat?

The Medic scoffed dismissively. A tea set? Really? What was she? She was neither a young girl or a grandmother. Why would she show such interest in something so boring? Porcelain that shattered easily? That had no business being in his infirmary.

But the words Miss Pauling confronted him with. He had to play  _nice_. As nice as a man can be to such a hell-woman like herself.

After she settled her belongings on her desk, she quickly returned to work. Comments on god-knows-what that she's read in their files. It almost made him curious to see what she had to say about his medical history. His was equally as bare as her's but with less mentality issues. Perhaps she had a comment with how clean his record was? It also detailed his background so perhaps she may have a comment on that. Or how he lost his medical license.

She's been here for little under a week and the Medic hasn't had the chance to calibrate her to the Respawn system nor accustom her to the ÜberCharge ability as well as the Medigun database. Seems he had a lot to accomplish in the next few days.

"Ah, Frau Swansea. I do believe you have been briefed on zhe Respawn system, no?"

That seemed to catch her attention.

"Oh, you're not? I could of sworn it vas Miss Pauling's job to fill you in. Ah, no matter. I suppose I vill have to do."

She has turned in her swivel chair to face him now. Expression quizzical at best.

At this pointed he was tempted to bullshit it as much as possible and give it to her straight. For the sake of team cooperation he decided on the latter.

"You see, zhe Respawn system is used in a vay to cheat death. It links your body to a database that is both shared between the Respawn and Medigun. Zhe Respawn however... It doesn't exactly, bring you back per se. Zhink of it as a... Cloning software, that also brings you back from zhe dead."

Amelia blinked, tilting her head to the side. "So wait, let me get this straight. Respawn brings me back to life, but doesn't bring ME back."

"Correct."

"Do I still retain my memories and such."

"Ja."

"...Alright, good enough for me. If I'm still me by the end of the day I don't care."

"Oh but you should care. You see, despite it just making a mere copy, you still have a violent reaction to the process. It goes away in a week but it's quite gruesome."

"What... Do you mean?" She was hesitant to ask.

"Vell. Side effects include, nausea, light headedness, temporary loss of motor functions, temporary loss of speech, as vell as potential internal bleeding."

That was a lot to process.

"But does it go away?"

"In the first ten minutes usually. Zhe internal bleeding is just a result of zhe body not fully completing itself. After a moment in respawn you should be fine, albeit with some excess blood seeping through zhe muscles."

"As for zhe medigun. It merely restores zhe body to a previous state. Sort of like a time machine. It takes data stored about zhe body of zhe target and reverses vhatever gruesome injur you've sustained to it's previous state. Good as new vith no blood or pain. Usually."

"ÜberCharge however is much more complicated as it is a entirely different system. You see, zhe ÜberCharge acts off of the Medigun. Vith enough powered stored I can unleash it in an electrical outlet to give you invulnerability, meaning you can't be harmed. You just become an unpenetrable block of pure death. Zhough I don't see what scenario would provoke the use of an ÜberCharge on someone such as yourself. Rather be safe zhan sorry."

"What does this... ÜberCharge entail exactly."

"Zhe ability or procedure?"

"...Procedure?"

Absolute glee is written on his face.

"Oh yes, zhe prodecure! You see, I'll have to conduct a heart surgery to ensure your heart won't rupture the moment I ÜberCharge you! As vell as install a meter to help regulate and direct the electrical flow so it's doesn't burn you to a crisp."

Like hell Amelia would allow someone like him near her heart.

"Zhe ability itself is as I've explained. So, vhere vould you like to start? Heart surgery or me puncturing you in several places to gain data for zhe calibration?"

Amelia stayed silent for a moment, glancing down at her hand in thought. Might as well get the difficult one out of the way.

"Heart surgery."

An almost sadistic grin pulled at the Medic's lips as he turned to full face the Anesthetist, his hands eagerly tapping against one enough before he gestured towards the gurney.

"Why, take a seat then, Fräulein Swansea."


	4. Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting into the nitty gritty  
> TW for surgery, gore, general medical unpleasantness

The grin that crawled it's way to the Medic's face was evident. Though Amelia was outright deterred, she knew she couldn't trust him. She's seen his file, his medical history, his  _operating_ history. The moment he tries to plant a baboon's lung in place of her own, she'll make him wish he never tried. Before stepping onto the gurney, the woman placed down a vial and a syringe. Looking at it quizzically, he glanced up for context.

"Locale anesthetic.  _Use it_."

The edge to her voice was music to his ears as he watched her lay down on the gurney. Amelia glanced around in the hopes that perhaps there were gowns she could wear but to no avail. Figures, this place didn't seem like the type of infirmary to have such necessary items anyway. Especially when the doctor is halfway to a lunatic. The woman sighed furiously and shrugged off her coat, causing the Medic to look at her due to the sudden rustling she made.

"Oh- oh yes, please take off zhe coat. And unless you want me to cut it, your dress as vell." Amelia was quiet for a moment and glanced down at her dress.

"But I'm not wearing any-"

"Any pants? This is a professional environment Ms. Swansea! Unlike the dummkopfs down the hall, I vould never try to muddle through a lady's zhings." Though Amelia felt like this was a lie, she sighed and slowly lifted the dress off and threw it at a chair where her tailcoat laid. The Medic gave her a once over before raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry to edge into your comfort zone but you'll also need to take off zhe brassier."

She wished he didn't say that.

With another frustrated huff, off came the bra and onto the chair.

"Excellent! Now, just lay still vhile I do my vork." His voice came to a whisper, the sadistic grin still evident on his face.

"Just know that if you decide to do anything extra to me, I have done surgery on myself before and won't hesitate to do an organ transplant on you myself."

"Oh ho~ Fiesty aren't we? I'm surprised Ms. Swansea, I thought you'd do that to other people, not yourself."

"All for the sake of medicine, after all doctor." She grinned, but it wasn't out of playfulness.

Soon their conversation fell quiet, the Medic grabbed a scalpel and raised it. He laid the blade along her chest but stopped.

"Ah- I almost forgot." He chuckled to himself as he set the blade back down and grabbed the anesthetic and needle.

"Are you sure you'd rather have locale anesthetic? I could alvays put you under, I still have some sleeping gas leftover-"

"The locale anesthetic will be fine." She said sharply.

"As you vish." He shrugged as he numbed the area before returned to his scalpel. Amelia had a high pain tolerance already so the injection went fine. Though the moment the area became numb she started to worry. Would there be any complications? What if she dies? Heart surgery was always a risky thing and she never had the pleasure to witness one or perform one herself.

"Ah- please lay back down Fraulein. I'll mess up the cut vith you staring like zhat." He sneered as he gently pushed her back down. Amelia wasn't even aware she was staring at her own chest. The Medic laid the scalpel back down and began to cut. Only then did Amelia realize he was eyeballing the surgery. No doubt it'd be botched.

What a son of a bitch.

But she obeyed, she stayed quiet and stared up at the ceiling. Her eyes trailed along old pipes and fluorescent lights until she laid eyes upon a bird perch, which dozens of doves staring at her.

She could barely feel it. Maybe some pressure every now and then but overall the surgery went nicely. Her attention however was focused on the birds and she was unaware of what the Medic was actually doing.

It was all well at first.

Then there was a sting. Then an ache. Then a scream. The Medic laughed as she leaned her head forward ever so slightly to see what the  _hell_ he was doing.

Then she saw it. Her heart, held in his hands. It was... almost beautiful, but disturbing at the same time.

"You have quite zhe hefty heart Fraulein. Perhaps more so zhan Heavy's. Zhough his is quite larger in comparison. More so now." He reached over to his tool table and grabbed an odd device with three prongs. Which he proceeded to impale your heart with, blotches of blood spurting then ceasing.

"Ah yes. Now for zhe fun part."

"Hopefully your's does not burst like zhe Heavy's."

Burst?

She watched as the Medic raised the heart to the Medigun mounted from the ceiling. A grin permanently etched into his features. The heart began to beat at first but quickly, there was blood everywhere. It splattered over his glasses, her glasses, and even smacked a dove. When Amelia managed to calm down from the initial shock, the scream that ripped through her throat was disconcerting even for the Medic, who usually relished these types of moments. After a short moment however, her hissed furiously.

"Shush! Quiet. You're going to ruin zhe procedure."

"Oh! As if it isn't already ruined with my HEART EXPLODING!"

"Calm down! I have extras for zhis occasion."

Standing up, the Medic headed towards the small mini fridge, where her jostled around a few things before taking out, as you, the reader, may have guessed, a baboon's heart.

Amelia looked like she was going to have a heart attack, if she had one.

"Now then, lets try zhat again."

Now with the baboon heart in hand, it seemed to work much better than Amelia's. However with her chest chasm twice as small as Heavy, it's now a matter of how they're gonna fit the heart inside.

"Alright Ms. Swansea, I'm gonna ask that since you're still conscious, I'm not sure for how long but, can you perhaps hold open your ribs for me so I can squeeze this in? It might be a tight fit but I'm sure it'll do."

Amelia was dumbfounded, yet her hands seemed to move on their own accord, holding the offending bone away from where her heart originally sat.

With a bit of determination, elbow grease, and two snapped ribs later, the heart sat firmly in Amelia's chest. 

"Oh! Vhile we're here."

Medic took out a strange device, like a long prodding rod with a dial on the top. He wasted no time prodding and stabbing Amelia, leaving the instrument there for a moment before pulling it out. The whimpers and cries that erupted from her were delicious.

"W-What. The fuck. Are you doing." She hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, compiling data for the Medigun." The medic said nonchalantly as he typed numbers into the machine, glancing between the rod every now and then. "Zhat vas quite more rushed zhen how I usually do it, but it's merely your chest, so."

After another moment of silence, the medic amped up the medigun and healed the gaping hole in Amelia's chest.

One breath, strained, another, a little better.

"Ah, yes good you can breeze. For a moment I thought that heart was going to crush your lungs! Now, you may feel like your chest is pregnant due to the oversize heart but- you'll get used to it." He grinned. What a weird fucking way to put it.

Struggling to stand up, the medic nearly waved her off as Amelia began redressing.

"Oh, also if you feel like your lungs suddenly collapsed on themselves all of a sudden, let me know, zhat means your heart dislodged itself, ripped away from your arteries and you're currently bleeding out. Have a lovely day Frau Swansea."

Without even looking at her, the Medic went on to clean his instruments as Amelia tumbled out of the infirmary suddenly feeling top heavy.


End file.
